The Painter Finds His Muse
by rhodesXmorrisonXorton
Summary: Drew McIntyre discovers a new inspiration for his art after an incident that takes places in the nearby village. This story does not take place in the present time, but rather in a different time period. Drew McIntyre/OC One-shot


**One-shot: The Painter Finds His Muse**

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***Author's Note: This is a Drew McIntyre one-shot. I suddenly came up with this idea when I was holidaying in Bangkok, plus I've noticed the lack of McIntyre stories and one-shots on this website, so I'd thought I'd take a chance at writing a one-shot. I don't like Drew McIntyre, but I do like writing Fanfiction stories about him. Anyways, I hope you guys like this one!***

**P.S. I wish you all a very, very Merry Christmas and an awesomely pwnage New Year!**

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In an alternate universe, in an alternate time period, somewhere far, far away…

There lies a small cottage on the outskirts of town, completely surrounded by flora and fauna. This small cottage is not entirely noticeable to passers-by, as it is mostly quiet and nothing unusual happens from that cottage. The doors of the cottage only opened a few times a day, let alone, maybe even a few times per week. When one would pass that cottage, they would inhale the scent of turpentine, hear the subtle sound of water swishing, and sometimes, catch the glimpse of a myriad of bright colors standing out on the plain, off-white canvas lying on a wooden easel.

A young man in his mid-twenties, standing at 6'5'', his hair, unusually long for a male, tied back in a ponytail. His build was muscular and toned; his perfect posture remained the same. His sky blue eyes concentrated on the canvas before him, deaf to the world around him, his attention fixated on that plain, off-white canvas board, where he swished and swayed his brush coated with acrylic paint, rotating his wrist in smooth motion, ensuring that he did not make a mistake in the process. His hands were stained with an explosion of colors; his shirt could not be described differently. Surrounding this young man were canvas boards, not much different from the one before him, each one displaying different pictures of art.

Yet one similarity noted between all these complete paintings is the theme selected, the painter's preferred theme, to be exact. These paintings were all paintings of nature, from a bird's nest high up in a tree, to a butterfly resting on a flower, to an ocean of trees surrounding a dead stump.

Drew McIntyre lets out a sigh and puts down his paintbrush, wanting to take a rest before completing his latest painting of a stream in the middle of the woods. He goes to wash his hands by the basin, something he has not done for hours. He glances up, staring through the window, allowing his eyes to rest whilst watching the world go by from his house. Time passed by so quickly for Drew because he spent hours occupied in his work. Deciding he needs some fresh air, he washes up his brushes, empties out the water, and locks up the front door and leaves.

This was unusual for Drew. He hardly left the house, only stepping out of his front door to either restock on paints at the local art supplier in the village not too far away from his house, or to find something new to paint. This time, Drew, having not left his house for days, decides to visit the village nearby, hoping to find something else to do rather than paint, or rather something new to paint. He never wandered there unless he absolutely needed to do so, and that was only when he was out of a tube of acrylic of a certain color. People he passed did not bother to stop and greet him; he was not a familiar face to the village, having hardly stepping foot into it. Instead, they looked at him strangely, as though he were something unusual. Drew ignores them and continues to walk, though he tips his hat slightly lower to shield his eyes from view.

The reason why Drew McIntyre disliked walking into the village was because he was once a famous hero years ago, when he was just a teenager. He was the jousting champion of the village and even defeated the precedent village leader, who terrorized its people. Sick and tired of the publicity he faced in the aftermath of the incident, Drew quietly left the town, leaving no trace, leading people to believe he had decided to abandon them to serve in the king's court. The people quickly forgot him much to his relief, but not wanting to cause a shake-up once more, Drew hung up his shield and lance, and soon adopted an affinity for the paintbrush and the canvas board. He spent the most recent years of his life dedicated to painting nature around him, in the cottage in the middle of the woods, in a place where no one could find him and discover him.

After purchasing a new set of clothes from the tailor, Drew was about to make his way home till he heard the sound of a girl crying out followed by the thundering laughter of several men nearby. He also notices several people rushing to the other side of the village out of curiosity. Like the villagers, Drew is curious to know what is going on. Frowning, knowing that something was not right, Drew hurries off in the direction of the crowd.

Drew pushes his way through the crowd, which was easy for him due to his large build and tall figure. The female cries get louder and louder. So does the loud, booming cackle of the men that followed after.

His eyes widened when he catches the sight of three large, burly men he had never seen before, gruff and bearded, their teeth as yellow as muddy water. One of the men, the largest and the biggest of the three, holds a chain in his hand, and much to Drew's horror, attached to the end of the chain was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life, crouched down on her knees, her long, wavy hair a copper brown and cascading down her shoulders. Her hands appeared to be tied behind her back, and wrapped around her neck was the chain not much different from the one the man was holding. Drew felt himself tense up when he noticed next to her, a robe that was stained with blood, possibly indicating that was hers. He was about to explode when the man holding that chain attached to the girl's neck pulled her, causing her neck to do the same as well, and she cried out in pain as well.

"That's it, darling, scream for me," taunted the man, cupping the girl's snow-white face into his rough-skinned palm, tears trickling down her rosy cheeks, "I love it when you scream."

Drew couldn't take it anymore when one of the other men stripped the girl of her next piece of clothing, leaving her only in her undergarments. He couldn't believe no one was stepping up or saying anything at this terrible sight he was witnessing before him. Realizing that someone needed to do something about those barbarians, he shoved the two people blocking in front of him and confronted the three men.

"I suggest you leave the poor girl alone," he stated loudly, getting their attention.

The three men glanced up from the girl and glared at Drew, furious that he had interrupted their game of fun. The girl also stopped crying and looked at Drew as well, and Drew couldn't help but notice her piercing, exotically gorgeous jade green eyes. _She's beautiful_, he thought, silently gasping in his head. But he couldn't allow this beautiful creature to be tortured and humiliated any longer.

"And how is this your business, laddie?" scoffed the largest man, eyeing Drew as though he were something disgusting underneath his shoe. Drew tried not to inhale the foul stench of halitosis from the guy's scurvy-covered mouth.

"What did this young lady do to you to deserve this inhumane treatment?" Drew demanded, gesturing towards the girl, glaring at the men. Drew looked into the girl's jade green eyes and softened his expression, letting her know he wanted to rescue her from those three vile men who were abusing and embarrassing her in front of the entire village.

"It's none of ye business, lad," spat one of the men, splattering drool all over Drew's face. The crowd gasped, but Drew calmly wiped the spit off of his face, not wanting to get himself or the girl hurt, only leaving physical violence to the very last resort.

"I beg your pardon, but I do believe it is my business, especially because of the way you're treating a gorgeous girl like her," insisted Drew. The girl was watching him with fascination, and he, too, fascinated, but by her stunning beauty, softly smiled at her.

"She's a gypsy girl and a witch, that's why," said one of the men. Clearly this was an excuse in Drew's mind.

"What makes her any different from us, then? Is she not human like us? Does she not eat, breathe, and sleep, like us? What makes you think she deserves to be treated like that?" demanded Drew. He was getting more and more agitated by the second.

"Get lost, you meddling punk," sneered the largest of the three men, shoving Drew angrily, "it's none of your damn business because she's my bitch."

Calling the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life a bitch was the very last straw for Drew. He slapped the large brute in retaliation and threw an aggressive punch to the side of his head, causing him to stagger and fall onto the ground. The crowd gasped. The brute cried out in shock, letting go of the chain attached to the girl in the process.

"Get him!" yelled the largest brute, nursing his temple.

The other two men lunged, but Drew easily countered their attacks, knocking one of them by the nose with the heel of his palm and swiftly throwing him into the other accomplice, who was about to strike him from behind. Both men got up and charged at him from both sides, but Drew ducked out of the way just in time so that the two accomplices collided into each other head-first, nearly knocking both of them out unconscious.

Drew turned to the last and the largest brute, and was shocked to see not only had he recovered from the impact of the hook to the temple earlier, but also he held a dagger to the girl's throat and held her roughly close to him by her small waist.

"You move one more step and she dies, laddie," threatened the brute, restraining the trembling girl, the silver dagger just centimeters away from her throat. The girl shut her eyes tightly, silently saying her last prayers before her approaching death arrives…

She, however, did not expect the tight grip on her waist to soften, nor did she expect the large brute holding her to suddenly, within two seconds, have a knife digging into his forehead and blood seeping through the pierced skin. The large brute fell to his knees, his breaths decreasing by the second, his eyes clouding white, his life no more. The crowd around her gasped in amazement, while the two accomplices of this brute gasped in shock upon the sight of the death of their fallen leader.

She did not realize that Drew had, within a split second, tossed a knife that struck the bulls-eye, in other words, the very center of the brute's thick forehead, instantly killing him and sparing her.

Drew walked up to the accomplices, shivering and clutching onto each other as they watched the crimson red blood coating their leader's motionless expression.

"Hand me the key to the chain cuff," he demanded in a low, threatening voice.

One of the accomplices did not hesitate in handing over the key to the man who had taken down their leader. Drew moved towards the girl and pulled her up from the ground where she had fallen, unlocking the metal cuff around her neck that was attached to the rusty chain. He also untied the ropes that bound her hands behind her back. Once she was free, Drew pulled the girl into his embrace, comforting her as she muttered silent thanks to him.

"Now leave this town and never come back," he growled at the two accomplices, who cowardly fled the scene and of course, ensured they would never come face to face with the former jousting champion again.

As soon as the two cowardly accomplices disappeared, Drew, ignoring the crowd's cheers and applause, turns his attention to the girl, stroking her cheek softly and gazing into her amazing green eyes softly and caringly. He covers her up with his coat and escorts her away from the town, but not before yelling at the crowd to not follow him or bother him. Leaving the villagers speechless and whispering amongst themselves, Drew takes the young girl back to his cottage.

He settles the girl onto his bed and kneels by her feet, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and kissing it gently. He glances back up at her and she is looking at him with love in her eyes. He smiles back at the beautiful sight before him, asking her for her name.

"Tell me, love, what's your name?" he says softly, again kissing her hand.

"Calanthe."

Her accent was so exotic, so foreign; Drew was immediately turned on for some odd reason. The name perfectly fit this girl, it meant 'beautiful flower', derived from two Greek words, _kalos_, meaning beautiful, and _anthos_, meaning 'flower'. She was the most attractive creature he had ever laid his eyes on, she was more lovely than any other sight he had ever painted before.

An idea occurred to Drew's mind as he spent the rest of the day getting to know Calanthe and introducing himself as well. She resembled a goddess in his dreams; perhaps she could be something new to add to his inspiration.

"Are you an artist?" she asks, glancing around at the myriad of finished paintings around her and capturing the smell of turpentine. She was now sitting by his kitchen table, watching Drew prepare a meal for her.

"Yes, I am, love," he replied, nodding, placing the bowl of soup in front of her, "in fact," he adds, taking her hands in his before she can begin her meal, "I've just come up a new, _much prettier_ idea for my next painting."

"And what is your idea for your next painting, Drew?" asks Calanthe, circling his wrists. Drew smiles at her gently, his blue eyes sparkling brilliantly at her own jade green ones, making her cheeks blush beautifully.

"I've found a muse for my next painting, love," he whispers softly, leaning in to kiss her perfectly pink, pouty lips, but not before adding, "and I'd also like her to be mine as well." When Drew pulls away, gently chuckling at Calanthe's flushed expression after the kiss, he murmurs to her tenderly…

"I would be honored if you were my inspiration, love."


End file.
